When Lightning Strikes
by Master Solo
Summary: History is simple. Starscream succeeds in taking the Decepticon leadership and in due time, the rule of the Cybertronian empire transitions to his creation, Lightning. Well, time for a little truth, on how oversimplified it all is. G1/Beast Era
1. Exile

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

When Lightning Strikes

By Master Solo

A/N: I'll try to update as much as I can but college is first. Enjoy!

The Decepticon/Predacon history, in its entire billions of years of existence, has always been a glorious one. However, the earliest parts had a major hole, if not, then is covered with a big lie. For that, you have me to thank. I can't say that I regret erasing many parts of this, but I am saddened by the tragedies that led to my altering certain stories. My name is Predacon Lightning, and I hope that you can piece together the hints of truth that I'm about to tell. It's time for a few stories.

My first real memory was of a mech standing over me.

"Mama?" I asked.

"You don't have a female creator. I'm your uncle Stutterfire. I helped with bits and pieces when your creator built you," said the mech who stood over me. He was completely red, save for a few yellow stripes, like a tomato covered with raw egg.

The female who helped spark me was around somewhere. I knew it and wanted to say it. It's something that every transformer knows, whether their sparks are from Vector Sigma or two existing sparks.

"It's good you're online. Now let's get moving!" Another guy came in. Orange and bright blue. Primus, he's burning out my optics! A pretty old mech, too. I didn't know what's going on at the time, but I also didn't question it when he grabbed my hand and started running towards a shuttle. "She sent a party after us! She's damn serious about getting us offworld!"

The minute the orange mech said that, Stutterfire turned on us. Some uncle. It wasn't until sometime after I fully matured that I finally forgave him.

"We can't leave Mama."

"She's dead! Now get moving or we'll be, too, kid!" that orange guy yelled at me. I was certain that she's alive. It's another thing sparklings know. But, I bought into that anyway.

Shot at. Chased. Driven out of the place where I was activated. If I were organic at the time, I would have cried. When we got onto the shuttle, that orangey-blue mech and I, all I could do was press my face against one of the viewports. My lips trembled. I never expected that I wouldn't be able to see my homeworld for two million years.

"Farewell, then," I heard the mech say. I'd later learn that whenever he had the look, he's thinking of someone he misses. Sometimes, it's Uncle Stutterfire. Sometimes, it's well… not.

And so that marked my activation day. Next, I'll give some insight on how and why many of us Cons are termed 'evil'. Most of us aren't created that way, I swear.


	2. Agoge

Agoge. To a young sparkling, it meant that Lycurgus was Primus incarnate and we had to do whatever he said and that we lived in a jungle world outside the Decepticon Empire. There was a dozen of us and the beasts could kill us anytime. Since we were all young sparklings and our organic alt modes slowed the process of building internal energon generators, we stole from a nearby Maximal settlement and the old mech that came with us to survive. If we got caught, we're punished and left to get away from the ones that caught us on our own. If not, we simply had fuel for another day. Do or die, it was, in a way.

We were preparing for another raid when Lycurgus came with a new plan. Fly in, steal energon, get out, right? No. Not this time.

"Kill these Maximals. I want two heads by the time we leave."

My memory core was not fully formed at the time, and so I do not recall the full action sequence. Trapping our Maximal prey was easy. Killing, according to Lycurgus's commands, was difficult to Bolts, who later became one of my most trusted advisors.

We had the first one pinned and stasis locked. Bolts stopped just short of taking off the head, his hands shaking.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Lycurgus. Without waiting for an answer, he shoved Bolts aside. "Every minute you waste not collecting the prize we're bringing to the Empress, we get one more minute were we could starve in this Primus-forsaken dump. Lightning."

Our leader turned to me. "Finish him."

Without a minute of hesitation, I did just that. My first true kill.

It was a simple concept to the mind of a young sparkling. Kill the Maximal or Lycurgus slags you. And it was an easy choice to make. Our goal that day, I later learned, had been to return to Cybertron in good standing and collect the rewards that the Empress had set for the delivery of the heads of Autobot descendants on silver platters. It was a brilliant plan devised by one sparkling and it almost worked, except that Lycurgus failed to comprehend the complexity, and simplicity behind the Empress's reasoning in exiling us.

I'm hoping to prove that ruthlessness is but a trait learned from experience, no different from logic. As you, I'm quite certain, the heir to my Predacon Empire, are reading through these logs that are reserved solely for your optics, you probably find that you have a relatively easy time obtaining the rare treasure called truth. Somewhere else in these musings, I will give you truths that I took eons to pry out and even longer to falsify to the historians.


End file.
